Subtextual Valentines
by HalfshellVenus1
Summary: John/Matt Die Hard 4 Slash: John might be so subtle that even HE doesn't realize what he's saying.


Title: **Subtextual Valentines**

Author: HalfshellVenus

Characters: John/Matt (**Slash**)

Rating: M

Summary: John might be so subtle that even _he_ doesn't realize what he's saying.

Author's Notes: A little Valentine's Day offering for us all.

x-x-x-x-x

The kid's been living at John's place for seven months now, which kind of surprises him when he stops to think about it. On one hand it doesn't seem that long, and on the other it seems like Matt's _always_ been there.

Which is to say that it's working out, and John likes things just the way they are. Matt brought up finding his own place a couple of times, but John cut him off: "Don't move out—it's great having you here."

And it is. John never knew he was lonely until Matt moved in. Lon_er_ and lone_ly_ are different things, and swear to God, John thought he was the first one until having Matt around showed him how wrong he was.

It's nice having someone there at the end of the day, someone who doesn't complain when he's late—hell, half the time the kid's plugged into some online gaming thing with his weirdo friends—and who likes hanging out and watching TV or shooting hoops. Not that Matt's very good at basketball, but he's getting better and he's always willing, and that counts for a lot in John's book.

The kid didn't have a lot of stuff left to move in with, and John's not the kind to hang onto junk himself, so it's not like things are crowded. Lucy had to buy extra clothes for Matt at first, since neither he nor John could drive. Matt could barely stand to leave the apartment until his knee got better, let alone go out on errands for hours at a time, so thank God they had other options. Throw in an extra toothbrush and a new laptop and other computer toys, and the kid was set. John's pretty sure Matt misses all of his old stuff (including his action dolls, or whatever they were), but the kid doesn't complain much. He's being fed regularly, and he knows how much worse things can get than just losing possessions, so it's possible he's got a new perspective on things. John's been there—he knows what that's like.

Sometimes John buys Matt stuff. He'll be out on a case and pass by a store where something catches his eye, and on the way back to the car he'll stop in and get it. A plastic Darth Vader (just because), a T-shirt that says "Byte Me," and a squishy Linux penguin have all made their way home. Even if it's just a Snickers bar, Matt's obvious delight makes it all worthwhile.

This is how John finds himself staring at a display of Russell Stover chocolate-covered strawberry-cream hearts at a Rite Aid store, caught between what kind of message they might send and the fact that he's pretty sure Matt would go nuts over them.

_Screw it—_John buys them anyway, four of them. While he's at it, he picks up a box of those conversation hearts, just for fun. Lucy and Jack used to love those—more the messages than the taste, as far as John remembers. Maybe he'll mail Lucy one in a letter, and maybe she'll open it. Or maybe the post office will confiscate the letter as containing a suspicious substance, but what the hell—John can't let stupid crap like that color his decisions.

When he gets home that night, a wonderful smell greets him at the door. It's Matt's turn to cook, and the kid actually _can_ cook a little, more than John does anyway. John heads to the kitchen to see what's up.

"Hey," Matt says warmly, "I'm glad you're here already. Dinner'll be done in five minutes, as soon as I finish this salad."

"Sounds great," John grins. "I brought you something. Close your eyes."

Matt obeys, a tentative smile on his face. "It's not alive, is it?"

"Definitely not." John lays the four packages on the table and waits. "Okay," he says.

Matt's eyes spring open, and he laughs in surprise. "Oh my God, I love these! How did you know?"

"You buy those strawberry Charleston Chews from that place that sells vintage candy—I figured there was something about the combination that you liked."

"God, I want one right now. Is that okay?" Matt sounds so earnest.

"They're yours—do what you want with 'em," John smiles. It's good to see the kid so happy over something so small.

"I—" Matt reaches out, and then stops. "No, I'll wait. After dinner. Might eat all four of them, though."

"That's okay," John says mildly.

Matt puts the rest of dinner on the table, and opens the oven for the last part. He pulls out something that smells incredible and puts it on the table.

It's meat loaf. Molded to form a heart.

John chuckles. "I don't think we've ever had shaped meat before."

"Well, you know," Matt says as he sits down, "if you can't play with your food, then what's the point of being an adult? And I was feeling kind of artistic today, anyway."

John carves off a piece for Matt and one for himself, but he's caught on something, stuck on the beginning of a thought that's floating just out of reach. There's _his_ heart-shaped candy and Matt's heart-shaped meat loaf, and when you put them both together, John wonders if he and Matt are trying to tell each other something.

Is _he?_ Is that what he wants from Matt? But that's ridiculous, because John has never—

He looks over at Matt, who's already eating, and Matt glances up and flashes him a quick smile. There's something about those big eyes and floppy hair, about the way Matt makes him feel settled and _easy_ with the world, that's completely irresistible. John realizes then that he can't say he _doesn't_ want that kind of relationship with Matt. It'd be new and scary, and John's not sure how far he'd be willing to take it, what with the whole "guy" thing and all, but he kind of thinks he might like to try.

Unless he's being an idiot, and Matt didn't mean anything by offering him heart-shaped food, but how's a guy like John supposed to know that anyway? He was married to Holly for twenty years, and half the time he still didn't know what she was thinking either.

He tries the meatloaf, which is delicious, and butters his potato while turning ideas over in his mind. Hinting around the issue never hurts, he figures, so he tries that first: "This is great—kind of festive, even. Have you got Valentine's Day on the brain?"

"I guess so," Matt says. "Besides, if anyone deserves a "Thank You," it's got to be you, putting me up at your place all this time. You probably deserve a medal, but I figured this would taste better."

"It's no trouble," John insists. "I like having you here."

"But would you miss me if I left?"

Matt's tone is teasing, but this conversation always makes John tense. What if it's a prelude to Matt finding his own place? Maybe John's been too subtle about this in the past, and Matt hasn't really heard him. "I definitely would," John answers firmly. "So how about you don't?"

"Don't what?"

Matt looks confused, and John tries to soften things with a smile. "Don't leave," he says. "I would really hate it if you left."

"Oh." Matt says quietly, thoughtfully. His face brightens suddenly. "Okay, I won't."

John's shoulders unlock and he can breathe easily again. "Now you're talkin'."

They eat in companionable silence, with Matt finishing first. John can't help noticing the way Matt's eyes drift over to the little foil-wrapped pile at the end of the table. "Go ahead. I know you're dying to get into them," he encourages.

"I totally am!" Matt says. He scoops them toward him and opens the first one. "Mmm—God, these are good," he groans in apparent bliss.

John laughs, because when the kid really likes something he doesn't do it in half-measures.

"You want to try a bite?" Matt offers.

Something rises up in John, and it's new and daring. "Yeah, I do." He pulls Matt's hand over at an angle and bites down into the candy, his lips just brushing Matt's fingers.

"Mmm," he moans, letting the sound vibrate against Matt's skin for a second before pulling away. John chews, and then licks his lips slowly, glancing up to see what effect all of this is having.

Matt's cheeks are flushed and his pupils dilated, and he might be breathing a little faster than usual, from what John can tell. But he isn't trying to get away. Instead, he appears riveted. "More?" Matt finally asks, his voice sounding a little choked.

"Don't mind if I do."

This time John leaves no room for doubt.

Gathering Matt's hand into both of his own, John bends down and nibbles the edges of Matt's fingers before eating a small part of the candy. Matt inhales sharply, but doesn't pull back, which is a very good sign. So John brings Matt's fingertips to his lips and runs his tongue over them gently before kissing them and then nipping off a little piece of the candy just for form's sake. He can feel Matt's eyes on him, feel Matt's hand trembling in his own, so John strokes Matt's fingers and kisses them again softly before letting them go.

Matt breathes out shakily, "Jesus Christ, McClane—don't stop there!"

"Just checking," John murmurs. He lifts the candy out of Matt's hand and puts it on the table, then brings Matt's fingers to his mouth and slowly sucks and licks them clean. Matt moans in response, squirming in his chair, and that's probably the sexiest thing John has heard in recent history. The picture that goes with it—Matt's closed eyes and parted lips—is even better. John tugs lightly on Matt's hand, and Matt looks at him hazily, and then stumbles to his feet and steps over to John.

"C'mere," John says, putting his hands on Matt's hips and pushing down. Matt straddles him and sinks into John's lap, shifting forward—_God yes, right there_—and leaning in to kiss him without hesitation.

It's a little different than John's used to because of the stubble, but the contrast between the softness of Matt's mouth and the slight scrape of his beard is a turn-on in a completely unexpected way. Once Matt sweeps his tongue over John's lips and slips inside, John stops thinking about anything but how amazingly good all of this feels.

The kid can really kiss—_Gotta stop thinking of him as a kid_—and the way he moves over John's lap and bumps John's belly with his own erection is all kinds of hot. John runs his hands over Matt's back and grips his ass, which he suddenly finds very appealing. "Right here, or in the bedroom?" John breaks off to whisper.

"Bedroom," Matt shoots back, "I want to see some skin."

"I like the way you think."

Matt eases off John and steps back, then offers a hand up. John takes it, rising up and leading Matt back to his bedroom. As soon as they're inside, he grabs the bottom of Matt's t-shirt and lifts it up and off, burying his mouth in Matt's neck and tracing his fingers over the smoothness of Matt's skin. Matt holds the back of John's head softly, keeping him there, while fumbling one-handed with John's shirt and raising it up in stages.

John stops long enough to pull the shirt off. Matt actually _moans_ at the sight of him, instantly reaching for John's chest and shoulders and just stroking over everything, trailing kisses in his wake.

Maybe John's still got it after all. Who knew?

He tips Matt's head up and ravishes that wonderful mouth, moving Matt toward the bed in the meantime. Then he leans forward, lets Matt sit down and lie back, and gets on the bed next to him.

There's so much skin, begging for John's touch, and he smoothes his fingers up and over—_So silky_—and finishes at Matt's neck. God, the kid's hair is _incredibly_ soft. John slips his hand into it and leans in to kiss Matt again, and the way Matt responds to him is hot and tender all at once.

How long was all this waiting, and John never even noticed?

Matt's hands roam across John's back and over his ass, and then he tugs at John's belt and fumbles it open. John helps him with the button and zipper, and can't help the soft gasp that escapes him when Matt's fingers slip through the fabric and find his cock. God, but it's been too damn long.

John shoves his pants down enough to make things easy, then runs his hand up along Matt's thigh until he finds the hard length that pulls Matt's sweatpants up into a tent. He palms over Matt through the fabric, loving the way Matt arches under his touch. Then one pull to the drawstring belt and a little maneuvering, and he has Matt firmly in hand.

They work each other heatedly and unevenly, sometimes with finesse and sometimes in ragged desperation, but it feels so fucking _good_ that John can't wait to try this a million times over. He hopes he'll get the chance.

The two of them twist and pull on each other, fingers grown slippery and breathing uneven. When John comes, it's a half-second before he expects to, and the surprise just makes it more intense. Moments later, Matt lets out a half-strangled cry and gasps and shudders as he spills out over John's hand.

John softens his touch and moves in closer, nuzzle Matt's neck while waiting for him to catch his breath. "Awesome," he whispers just below Matt's ear.

Matt laughs. "No fucking kidding," he says weakly. "You could package that and sell it."

"People try," John comments, "but then I have to arrest them." He nibbles his way along Matt's jaw, and Matt turns to meet his mouth. John spends a good long time after that just kissing Matt and stroking his hair.

"Should I—" Matt begins after awhile, his body leaning toward the door.

"No, stay," John says, pulling the sheets and blankets over both of them. "This is where we both belong."

As he drifts off to sleep, John could swear he hears Matt muttering, "About fucking time."

The next morning, John manages to turn off his wristwatch alarm before Matt does more than groan and turn over in response to its beeping. John's got work, but the kid might sleep for hours yet, for all he knows. He smiles at the sight of that tousled hair on the pillow next to him, and leans over to place a kiss just below the dark fall of lashes against Matt's cheek.

Slipping out of bed, he gathers up his clothes and heads off to shower and dress down the hall. It's not until he has his jacket on again and is about to leave that he notices something in his pocket.

_Oh, why the hell not? _John opens the box and sifts a few of the conversation hearts out onto his hand. One catches his eye immediately, and he sneaks into Matt's room and leaves it on the keyboard where Matt will find it.

The morning is halfway gone and two new cases have opened by the time John's desk phone rings. "McClane," he answers, pinching the bridge of his nose and hoping to God he's not starting to need bifocals now.

"I didn't think you knew how to work technology," Matt's voice says warmly. "Unless this heart says _'Fox me'_ instead of _'Fax me,' _but I don't think it does."

John smiles, feeling heat build in his chest and spread over his whole body at the sound of Matt's voice. "Hey, I can fetch a piece of paper with the best of 'em. It doesn't say I'm faxing _you_."

"Not _faxing_ exactly, no," Matt says, "but I think it's in the alphabetic ballpark."

"Listen to _you,_" John chuckles in amusement. He and Matt have never really gotten onto _this_ kind of topic before, and Holly was… well, Holly was different. And that's kind of the point.

"Okay, give me your fax number." Matt sounds so businesslike. "Will you be home for dinner?"

John realizes suddenly that he's been making it a point already to be home whenever he can, and it's funny that he never thought about it that way before. "Count on it."

"Good. See you then," Matt finishes, and is that a hint of something wicked in his voice? John can't wait to find out.

The fax machine beeps a moment later, and John goes over to see if the kid actually sent him something.

He did. It's a drawing of a heart, with words inside it.

"Be Mine," the letters say.

John traces them with his finger, a smile tugging at his lips.

_Sure thing, kid. Maybe I already was._

_-------- fin --------_


End file.
